


Forgiveness

by Lillithayn



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Pseudo-Incest, Sibling Love, Tags May Change, Unconventional Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3795292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lillithayn/pseuds/Lillithayn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leandra blames her eldest daughter, Marian-- the "bread-winner" of the family-- for the death of Bethany. Carver realizes the error in his ways and begins to feel bad for how he's treated her, deciding to try and reconcile their once strong bond. Though, grieving the death of their sibling together as they attempt to fix their estranged relationship brings them closer than acceptable in a place like Kirkwall, and the relationship they develop is most easily construed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Whisper

            Carver had been trying to sleep for what felt like forever to him, and off in the near distance— he could hear Mari doing the same. She rolled over and back again, fidgeted and twisted— kicking off her blanket just to pull it back up. As uncomfortable as it was on the floor of Gamlen’s hovel, Carver knew that was not the reason for her lack of rest— they’d slept worst at Ostagar. No, this was because of Bethany— because of mother.  
  
            Carver turned finally— to her, to his sister— and across the room he found her looking back at him. The fire was dimming, but it lit her features well enough. He didn’t like what he saw. The bags under her eyes, far darker than normal— whatever makeup left from Lothering smeared and nearly gone. Her dark hair was pulled up into a hasty bun, messy from wear, the strands that loosened and falling to hang every which way— framing her face. Her blue eyes were brightened by the bloodshot red surrounding them.  
  
            Mari looked as if she hadn’t slept in a week, and she probably hadn’t. In truth, neither had Carver— if he had shut his eyes for a moment, he didn’t remember. Surely, this hadn’t been their first time this way; going days or weeks on end with little to no sleep. You could just never tell before. She always hid it so well, even from him. Or maybe he’d just never noticed. Maybe he’d just been so busy trying to outdo her that he didn’t realize she’d never wanted to be better in the first place, she just wanted to be strong for him and for Bethany— be the big sister their mother expected her to be.  
  
            Carver cringed at the thought.  
  
            Mari was always brave and courageous, and daring. She was resourceful; equal parts diplomatic as she was aggressive— yet always so witty. He didn’t understand how she worked, how she made it all work— but she did. Maybe it was because she had to do it— and she would do anything to get what they needed. Whether through guile or persuasion, she would do whatever was necessary for her family’s survival.  
  
            She made the tough choices he could not— that Mother and Bethany could not— she was the one who stayed strong and pulled them together.  
  
            There was a girlish grace to her, as much of a warrior as she was. Carver didn’t know if it came from her being a mage or being a woman, but it was always there. She was brave, but cunning and cautious. She was daring, but only when it was safe. She was always careful and tactful— so careful, and yet this fate had befallen her, all these deaths and terrors haunted her. Yet she was strong. Always.  
  
            She was always the one, and all this time he hated her for it— he should’ve been thanking her. She had so much responsibility, all father’s problems on her shoulders. Supporting a family, keeping them safe, making the meals and keeping every alive and well. All the blood on her hands, it was to protect her family— to protect him. She killed so he didn’t have to— so he wouldn’t have to lie awake every night for it. She was always strong.  
  
            And now to see her this way, so distraught and so beyond him— he could not begin to apologize. It had gone on too far, all this spite and hatred for nothing— made her closed off from him. No, she had blocked him out and away like the others. She used her mask with him just like she did everyone else. Always strong, never faltering. She was always bright eyed and walking tall— a true leader, filled with determination and everything he always wanted to be.  
  
            And now she was none of that. She was vulnerable and hurt, and completely torn apart. He had never seen her like that, and maybe it was his own fault. One thing was for sure; it needed to stop. All this lying and playing mother’s little soldier, ever so perfect— it had to stop. He didn’t want to be blind, he didn’t want her to treat him like she did the others— he wanted her to trust him, to look at him like a brother that would be there for her.  
  
            Carver Hawke, for the first time in seven years, reached for his sister.


	2. Hushed

            There was a crease forming between her brows, her lips parted to make words that didn’t leave. Her eyes were sad and shocked, her body retracted as though she feared him. There was a pit in his stomach and a pain in his heart from that thought, a fear blossoming— a thought it was too late to salvage them.  
  
            “Please, sister.” Carver spoke hoarse and shaken, pain clear in his voice despite how hard he tried to will it back down. _Please, sister, let me be there for once._  


            Marian looked almost relieved with his offer, and she seemed so much closer already. Carver released a breath he didn’t know he was holding and allowed his eyes to shut at the sound of her stirring— and slowly, hesitantly, her hand found his. He wanted to tell he was sorry, but he could not muster up the strength to speak. Mari nearly gasped at the contact, pressing her palm tight to his as their fingers tangled together for the first time in years.  
  
            It was so strange to her— how it felt to have him close. It was foreign yet familiar, and she could barely believe it was this was the hand of the same boy that frightened at the sound of thunderstorms and cuddled into her at the first crack of lightning. He wasn’t that boy anymore, he was a man— and his hands were so much bigger now, bigger than hers and rough to the touch.  
  
            “Carver,” Mari whispered, hushed to not wake anyone. There was so much she wanted to say— words all jumbled and pushing up into her throat, eager to escape and be heard but she could only stutter, only make out his name.  
  
            Carver sucked in a breath at the sound— it had been so long since he’d held his sisters hands, since she said his name without spite or anger. Carver could not blame her for how she spoke to him most times, it was his fault that she was so defensive and their relationship was so strained. He was mean to her when he had no right to be.  
  
            “Oh, Mari,” He gathered her hands in his and brought them to him— brought her close— pressing his forehead against her fingers. _Forgive me_ , _sister_. _Please forgive me_.  
  
            It had been so long since he had felt close to her, and her hands had changed as much as she. She was not that innocent wispy haired girl picking wildflowers and training with him— she was not the same. Now she was broken and hardened— her hands were heavier and calloused at the fingertips, but they were still soft— still hers. She was still his sister, his protector.  
  
            “Carver,” she said it again as though she was trying to remember how the word tasted— how it felt to say his name. Her voice cracking as he kissed at her hands, a silent sob escaping her. She was so beautiful, and so was her voice, even now when it was strained, even now when she was broken and tormented— she was still perfect, still Marian.  
  
            He glanced up at her, saw how her bows were raised and brought together, how her eyes were shining and glossy— he hadn’t seen this before in her, all this raw emotion. His heart ached as if it were her own— as if for a moment, he felt just as she did— and his brows furrowed and creased like hers, a frown forming on his lips as he brushed the side of his face against her knuckles. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
            Marian shook her head and pulled her hand from his, pressing it to his cheek. “Don’t be.”  
  
            “I am.” He nodded back almost frantically, clutching onto her wrist to pull her hand to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to her palm, sliding his hand up to twine his fingers with hers.  
  
            “I am,” he whispered, swallowing thickly as he left her grasp to cradle her face in his hands. Her mouth opened again but no words came out, his fingers brushing against her cheekbone coaxing her into thoughtlessness. “I mean it.”  
  
            She said nothing and shut her eyes, letting Carver hold her there. She couldn’t figure out how she was feeling— shocked, at peace, sad— tense. There was a tension, or maybe some sort of urgency— and that worried her. She didn’t know what it meant, what that pit in her stomach meant.  
  
            She opened her eyes to look at him. His gaze was set on her face, at where his fingers drew across her skin— focused, loving, careful. Things she had missed in him. His thumb brushed up across her face like a feather, light and soft and gentle, up until his eyes found hers and his movement ceased. So did his breathing, and hers. Everything had just stopped.  
  
            It should’ve been wrong; the way his stomach tightened and his heart contorted and his pulse sped— the fact he couldn’t look away— that he thought and felt the way he did. It should’ve been wrong, or at least strange to want to be so close to her.  
  
            It should’ve been wrong that he kissed her.  



End file.
